Twenty Twelve : Handover
by Remingtonkeys
Summary: Based on the Britcom depicting the fictional Olympic Deliverance Commission prior to the 2012 Games in London. This story picks up where Ian and Sally's final Handover Day conversation leaves off, just because there was so much left unsaid. Ian/Sally.
1. Chapter 1

Two champagne flutes rested on Ian's desk, celebrating the official handover from the ODC team to the group that would pilot the ship the rest of the way. He had stood trying to concentrate as Sally, nestled comfortably into his chair, had begun this tutorial session for restful Italian holidays by indicating that some choices had to made. His preoccupied mind quickly shifted away from his holiday options. Ian knew the most important choice he had before him this day was whether or not to act on his interest in the woman currently sitting at his desk. No stranger to professional decision-making, he now found himself in the unfamiliar territory of personal indecision.

"_So, I think I'd prefer that, actually."_

Ian Fletcher curiously ignored his personal assistant's faux pas. "Sally, about all of this. I think—" He watched mystified as she tripped over her tongue trying to turn back time.

Her cheeks flushed red. She shifted uneasily on her feet and was no longer able to look at him. "Yes, no, it's not a problem…I mean, it's probably for the best…"

In an instant, Sally Owen had felt her world crash. It had all been going so well, she'd been helping him plan his upcoming holiday to Italy, taking the lead and offering tips and suggestions for the perfect getaway following the roller coaster of the last seven years of his life. They were talking casually about things other than their work—and then, lost in her own fantasy, she had let it slip. _I'd think I prefer that, actually_.

Never mind that it was his holiday she was planning, she knew she had subconsciously and very verbally revealed her desire to accompany him, and her heart was laid open with a simple statement. Her fairly open secret was officially out and she couldn't take it back. Claiming innocence was fruitless; Ian was no fool. He probably suspected anyway, and would see through her in a single beat of her longing heart, and now that the unspoken had been spoken, he would have to address it. But Ian was a gentleman; she knew the expected polite rejection was coming. What claim could she possibly have to someone like him? And as was her way, she had wanted to make it easy for him. She rambled and backpedaled, frantically searching for a way out.

"Hang on, you haven't heard what I was going to say yet." Ian hadn't time for a detour into whatever Sally was on about. He had heard something about airfares, a basilica and a cappuccino, but he had other things on his mind, namely a determination to finally deal with his awareness of her feelings toward him and his own growing attraction to her before it was too late. He'd waffled enough over the last month, vacillating between desire and insecurity over an uncertain professional future and fresh wounds from a relationship gone terribly wrong. But now, his divorce final and his ODC desk nearly cleared, he felt he was again on the clock, a different deadline near and with only one loose end left to tie before she disappeared from his life. Again.

"Yes, right." Chastised, Sally waited quietly, able only to shoot him the most furtive hopeful glance.

Ian paused again, taking a deep breath and forging ahead. "Do you think you might want to have dinner with me tonight?" Finding himself talking to the top of her head, he leaned in to draw her eye from the floor, slowly rediscovering the confident executive within him and taking charge. "I mean, I think we need to talk before we pack all this up. Uh, you know, about us. You. Me. Italy. All of it, really."

He gave a quick scan of the ODC outer office and, noticing the various members of his team scattered about in close proximity, Ian longed for the days of solid walled offices with lockable doors. Sill, problems were solutions waiting to happen. He did what he did best. He came up with a solution. "Not here, obviously. Look, what do you say we call it a day? Why don't you go on home, put on your best posh frock and I'll meet you there, say, about six thirty."

Sally stood unmoving, fearful that a single gesture would somehow shatter the fantasy world in which she now found herself. Their job nearly done, the ODC handover complete, she had approached this day in dread of losing him again. She had hung on his every word in his final speech to his team, appreciating his sincere sentiments. _It's hard to imagine not coming through that door every day and seeing you._ And she desperately tried to hear the things he wasn't saying. Now, she heard that he wanted to be alone with her, perhaps to say the things she had been waiting a lifetime for. Would more be handed over today than just the Olympics? They had teetered on the edge of romance for so long, or had that only been in her head? She was to go home and ready herself for a Friday night date with the man who visited her dreams every Friday night for years. But similar opportunity had slipped away before and she had always awakened alone come Saturday morning.

Ian's tentative touch on her arm brought her attention back to him.

"I'll get us a reservation somewhere and we'll have ourselves a night out…to celebrate all this—and, well, to maybe settle a few things for ourselves." He searched her face for a reaction, but wasn't sure what he found there. "I still have the address in my mobile. All right? Sally?"

"Ah, yes. Right." She nodded, wanting all at once to please, and believe, in him. She made a small casual move toward the door, but stopped and turned back to him. "So, I will just see you when you get there then."

He must have heard the need for reassurance in her voice. Ian stepped closer, not quite close enough to draw the attention of co-workers in the outer office, but near enough to take her breath away. "Six thirty. I promise."

She remembered nothing of her journey home to Shepherd's Bush. Once there, Sally tried to push away the niggling doubt that somehow he wouldn't show; that something would come up—another giant pile of horse shit, a disaster at the Olympic site, a looming international crisis or perhaps an intergalactic diplomat that needed the kind of soothing only Ian could provide. She cursed herself, believing that she shouldn't have let him out of her sight until the declarations had been made and the elephant had finally been herded out of the room.

Resisting the urge to constantly check her mobile phone for a text saying she'd been stood up, she busied herself by tidying, dressing and, as she had done a little more than a year earlier, waiting.

The soft rap on her door came only a few agonizing minutes past the appointed arrival time, and Sally glanced down at her chest to assure herself that her pounding heart could not be seen in the open neckline of her best black dress. Satisfied that the only visible heart was the silver one she wore on a chain, she opened the door.

As promised, Ian stood, roses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, in a fresh blue shirt and grey suit. Around his neck was the patterned navy blue necktie Sally had bought for him the night before he had appeared on BBC's radio Today Show—the very tie that precipitated a heated public row with his then wife and set them on the path to divorce. He pretended not to notice the unmistakable look of relief on the face of his date.

"See? On time, but over budget," he smiled, offering up his flowers and wine. "Just like the Olympics."

"No," mumbled Sally quickly, taking the gifts. "Yes. Thank you. You didn't have to, ah, they're beautiful, actually. Come in, please."

"So, you look nice," said Ian. He watched as Sally moved off with the flowers and immediately began arranging them in a vase, her back to him. She was never one to leave a task for later. Smiling knowingly, he moved in behind her in the small kitchen. "I made a reservation for seven-thirty. I thought that would give us a little time to have a drink first."

"Yes." Without looking up, she motioned toward the cupboard. "There are glasses in there." She hoped she didn't look as anxious as she felt. Here he was. In her flat. With no co-workers or meetings to interrupt them. Sally made a silent prayer for his overworked Blackberry to take the night off.

He reached for two wine glasses and, before he could ask, found Sally handing a corkscrew over her shoulder. _Of course._ He pulled the cork on the bottle. Pouring out the drinks, he caught himself appreciating the curves accentuated by her clingy dress. Wanting a distraction, he sipped at his own drink, and reached around Sally to hand her the other glass.

Keenly aware of his presence behind her, Sally finished with the flowers and stared straight ahead as she also took a long draw from her wine, trying to stay calm and not let her curiosity of what this night would bring run away with her.

After draining his glass, Ian set it down on the counter beside her, and let his hands rest gently on her hips. He felt her stiffen and gasp slightly at his touch. He bent his head lower so that she could feel his breath on her neck and spoke softly into her ear.

"Sally, if we're going to make any progress at all tonight, you're eventually going to have to relax and look at me." He felt some of the tension leave her as she exhaled and nodded in agreement. Ian allowed her to turn in his arms, but did not step back. "I think we both want the same thing now. At least I think I'm ready to try it."

She slowly looked up into his blue eyes, and remembered how very much she liked them. She wondered if those eyes could see right through her. Could he tell how desperately she wanted to kiss him? How badly she wanted to lean into his body and feel his embrace? He must have known. He gently relieved her of the wine glass that she clutched in the space between them. She felt the burn in her cheek as he softly traced the outline of her jaw with his fingertips and his hands came to rest beside her face.

Unable to think of a single reason to wait any longer, she made the next move and lifted her chin and eagerly met his lips. The long-awaited kiss lingered and she slid her own arms up and across his broad shoulders and wrapped them tightly around his neck, her fingers settling in the wisps of wavy hair at his collar, completing a journey seven years in coming.

After a time, their lips parted, but neither made much of a move to separate. Despite trying to suppress her smile, Sally's face radiated the sincere feelings she had harbored practically since the day she met her boss.

"So," said Ian, wearing a satisfied expression of his own. How could he have ever doubted that this was what he wanted? "Did I mention that I am very glad you came back?"

Sally chuckled, remembering something she had once said long ago. "You didn't have to."

He gave her a hint of a smile, but something else suddenly flashed in his eyes. "Why did you do it?"

"Do it?" She tilted her head, in that adorably confused manner he loved. "What, you mean come back?"

"No." Ian shook his head. "Sally, I'd like…I need to know why you left."

Her face flushed. "Oh, well, something came up, that's all," she said quickly, trying to dismiss the topic. "But that's in the past now." She didn't want to discuss this. She hadn't wanted to discuss it when she reunited with him in the hospital, and she didn't want to discuss it now. Besides what did it matter? They were together, finally. Sally tried to pull away, but Ian caught her arm and made her look at him again.

"Please," he said. "Tell me. I just want to know the truth. Why did you leave, and what was it that made you come back?"

"I couldn't, I mean, it was just," her confidence shaken, she fumbled for the words to express what occurred a year ago. She stopped and started again. He had asked for the truth, and she knew the time had come. Why hide it now? She decided to tell at least part of it. And, besides, she simply needed to say it. "Basically, I left because I was…massively, hopelessly in love with my boss." She gave a small chuckle. "And I guess I came back for the same reason."

"That doesn't make any sense." He held her around the waist again. "I know I've been a bit thick, but I thought even then that we were…getting closer. If that was what you wanted, why did you just up and leave without even telling me? Was it just because I didn't turn up here that one night?"

"No," said Sally, blushing. "Well, yes. But it was fine, really. I mean I had no right to feel the way I did. It was my fault entirely, actually. I shouldn't have interfered. I know Laur…um, she…was your wife and everything, and I should have been happy you got back together with her-"

"What are you talking about? Got back together?" Ian was genuinely confused. "Are we talking about the same night? I'm talking about when you resigned."

Yes," said Sally. "That night. I mean I'd got your text and everything, and it wasn't a problem, and I should have expected you'd want to…try to work things out with…her." She clearly didn't believe a word she was saying, and in the burden of lying to him she felt she needed a little distance and gently tried to escape his grasp.

"Stop running away from me." Ian held Sally at the elbows. "Sally, what are you talking about? Work things out with Laura? That never happened. Ever. Once we split, it was over. We hardly said a civil word again."

"No," said Sally. "Really, it isn't a problem or anything, and it doesn't matter now anyway. I overreacted. I just couldn't face you after you…knowing you and she were…and after the way she treated you… and I just—I mean, it's fine. It doesn't matter now. You were married—"

"Wait," said Ian, "you think we…? Why ever would you think that? You knew better than anyone how bad things had got between Laura and me."

Sally tried to balance her memory of that night with what Ian was saying. Somehow, something was missing. "But…you sent a text. You said you'd both had too much to drink and you would be staying there...uh, you know, for the night. With her."

"Yes," said Ian, the realization of the misunderstanding dawning on him. "Oh, god. No. Sally, you see, she was waiting up for me. She suggested a drink and a quick talk to sort a few things out so we could at least be civil about it all. I shouldn't have done it, but after the day we'd had at work, I admit I quickly had more than one glass of wine, and on an empty stomach it was a pretty bad idea all around. Anyway, yes, in truth Laura did actually come on to me—"

Sally cringed. "Ian, you don't need to explain—"

"No," said Ian. "I want to. Just listen." He looked hard into her eyes, imploring her to believe him. "I turned her down, Sally. There wasn't enough wine on earth to make me want to sleep with her. If I'm honest, I wasn't crazy about it the last few years of our marriage either. Anyway, I had no interest in her that night, and I'm sure the only interest she had in me was to get control over our separation."

"Control?"

"Yes. She threw me out, remember? She locked me out of our residence and that directly led to our separation. Legally, that put me in a better position as we went through the formalities of the divorce. She knew that even better than I did. I think she kept wanting me to return home when she was there, not out of love, but because if she could get me to sleep with her that would be a reconciliation in the eyes of the court, and we'd basically start over legally." He paused for just a moment. "And that's partly why I couldn't come here that night."

Sally tried to follow him. "But, why…"

"She'd already accused us of having an affair," said Ian. "You know that. And she did it again that night when I knocked her back. I could hardly deny an affair with you and then rush off to your place in the middle of the night, now could I? It occurred to me that I might be followed, or that she had an investigator snooping around or something. She has access to all that stuff. Anyway, we had a fight. A huge fight. It had gotten late, and I had nowhere else to go, so I slept on the sofa, alone. I got the keys to my flat and the rest of my things out of the house in the morning and came to work. That's all that happened. Until I realized you were gone."

Stunned, Sally stared at him, taking it all in. _They hadn't slept together._ For someone who prided herself on her intuition where he was concerned, how could she have missed this? She'd waited for him that night; did everything she could to prepare to make his stay as comfortable as possible, imagining that the small intimate step of simply having him in her flat, even in a spare bedroom, would open the door for something more. She'd told herself that she would somehow finally find a way to tell him, to show him beyond doubt how she felt about him—to finally confess that she loved him.

But that midnight text had shattered her plan along with her heart. He wasn't coming. Instead, he was spending a drunken night with his wife. And though she had tried to cope and carry on, the next morning, hearing herself recounting the events for the camera, she had realized her own pathetic folly. It didn't help to also realize Ian was late. Her jealous mind imagining the worst, she had found herself unwilling to wait until he climbed out of his shrewish wife's bed and turned up to eat the breakfast and cappuccino she had lovingly set out for him despite being stood up. Embarrassed and feeling quite the fool, she had surrendered to the pain of unrequited love and quietly chucked her few personal possessions into a box and left-stopping at the human resources office just long enough to tender her resignation.

Now, more than a year later, looking at Ian she understood what he was asking her. He had not unknowingly betrayed her; instead, she had hurt him. His wife had basically ended their troubled relationship by walking out on him. And then just as he was extricating himself from that relationship Sally, whom he had started to depend on and turn to for more and more, had suddenly walked out on him, too. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I wasted a lot of time we could have been together." She mourned the lost chance to help him settle in at his new place, and she mourned the cozy lost days and nights that might have followed.

Ian surprised her by shaking his head. "No. It wouldn't have been that easy. I was still married, and neither one of us would've wanted our relationship to be a sticking point in Fletcher vs. Fletcher."

Sally shrugged. "It wouldn't have been a problem if we were together. I wouldn't have cared."

"You would have," corrected Ian. "And so would I. You would have been a party to my divorce and no matter what the truth was, I would always have been known as the executive who left his wife for his secretary. Laura would have made sure of it." He smiled, anticipating the inevitable coming reaction from his ex-. "She still might." He exhaled deeply and rubbed his face with his hands. "But I guess it doesn't matter now. Laura is out of my life for good, and you are back in it. I just want you to know that I did miss you, though. I mean, Daniel got the hang of the work eventually, but he was hardly a substitute for you. We got on, but we never quite…uh, clicked."

"Mmm, yes, I know," said Sally. "Ian, I'm sorry. I should have—"

"So what made you come back?"

Sally shrugged again. Wasn't the answer obvious? "You needed me," she said. "When I heard on the news that you had been injured, I basically realized that staying away from you had done nothing to change how...my feelings. I never felt like I was away, really, anyway. I mean, you were in the newspapers and on television, and with all the Olympic publicity and everything, I saw or thought about you every day. But when I knew you were hurt, I couldn't stand waiting for updates on the television, and I couldn't very well call you, soI rang Daniel that night just to ask if you were all right. I made him promise not to say anything. Then the next day he rang back and said he was leaving you for Seb. I couldn't believe he would do that to you so close to the end, just walk out on you like that, and I basically told him so. And then he suggested I come back, that I was the only one who could step in for him and make it work for the last month. I couldn't let the last seven years get away from you at the last minute just because Daniel wanted to climb the ladder. You'd sacrificed too much and worked too hard." She paused. "No matter how hard it would be to face you again, Ian, I knew I had to do it. So I told him to arrange it and came to see you the next day. And then in hospital it was as if…I'd never left, and, I don't know, it just seemed…right."

"Yes," said Ian. "It did." He pulled her close again. "It still does."

They kissed again, this time a bit more passionately. Lost in his arms, Sally couldn't help but feel another pang of disappointment as Ian suddenly pulled back first.

Unsure of how to take the next step, or even if he should on this, their first date, he swallowed hard and cleared his throat as he checked his watch. Torn between his rather ungentlemanly desires and his manners, he very properly chose the latter. "Uh, we should get going if we're going to make dinner."

Knowing him so well, Sally did what she did best; she expertly wrangled him into what he actually wanted all along. She posed a question. "Are we still, you know, doing that truth thing?"

Ian narrowed his eyes and nodded. "I always think that's best, don't you?"

"Yes, right. Absolutely," Sally said with a wry smile, "Because it's not a problem or anything, but if we are, then the truth is…well, I'd really rather just go to bed, actually."

"Oh, right," said Ian, his confused, slightly wounded expression revealing an unfortunate, but obvious, misinterpretation.

The comically pained, but patient, look on her face quickly helped him understand. "Yes," she said; a word loaded with information, and she waited for the dawn of understanding.

He brightened immediately. "Oh, right. Yes. Of course." She was indeed marvelous, he thought. As nervous and tongue tied as she could be around him at times, Sally possessed the unique ability to quickly and completely take control of a situation and somehow elicit the best possible outcome, and always in his favor. It was perhaps the quality he was attracted to most.

But Ian was himself a man used to being in the driver's seat and would not be outdone. Grinning like a naughty schoolboy, he took her into his arms. A shocked giggle escaped Sally as Ian suddenly reached down and lifted her from the floor. He carried her in his arms to her bedroom, and set her down beside the bed. They kissed as he reached behind her for the zipper of the dress and slowly slid it down her back. His lips wandered to her neck and shoulders as he slipped the dress away from her and it puddled on the floor at her feet.

Wanting him so badly, Sally had to force herself to allow him to work at his pace, but she did her part and loosened and removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. Soon, they were where they both wanted to be, where they should have been a year ago, in her bed and in each other's arms.

Later, lying in the last moments of lingering summer daylight, with her head nestled onto his chest, she heard Ian's soft voice. "Sally," he whispered. "I'd never want to hurt you."

She looked up quizzically, and he answered her unspoken question.

"I'm afraid one thing I've learned the past few years is that my ability to keep a woman happy is somewhat lacking," he said. "It seems I'm a pretty shit relationship partner. I mean, I really wouldn't want you to wake up one day and realize you hated me-"

"Don't," said Sally. "That wasn't your fault. She didn't love you, Ian. I mean, she couldn't have, the way she treated you. The things she said. I didn't tell you half of them."

Ian smiled a thank you, but wasn't ready to let himself off the hook entirely. "I heard enough, but I'm sure some of it was my own fault. There were other problems, of course, but I'm aware that I've reached a point professionally where the demands of my career tend to overtake the other aspects of my life. I mean, working late hours, weekends, my mobile never stops—"

"Yes, thank you, Ian. I know who you are," interrupted Sally. "And you don't have to be anything else for me."

He held her close, knowing he was ready to try love again, but wondering if he was really worthy of Sally's devotion. He was adept and practiced at feigning confidence professionally, less so in his private life. But she had quietly managed to see him safely through most every bump in the ODC road in the past seven years, and more than a few in his personal life, too. So he did what every good executive does, rely on the people best suited to the task to do what they do best; he asked his PA to save him once more. "Sally, don't let me mess this up."

"Yes, no, that's not a problem," Sally smiled, finally secure in the second official handover of the day.


	2. Chapter 2

He opened his eyes to find Sally smiling back at him. It took a moment to place the unfamiliar surroundings. For a moment, he wondered if he had been asleep at his desk, but when he saw the woman beside him loosely draped in his discarded blue shirt, sipping coffee and reading a magazine, the warm memory of the previous night returned. "Morning," he mumbled.

"Yes," said Sally as she checked the clock, "but only just."

Ian looked around. He knew he had slept soundly, probably as much as a result of Sally's rather expert massage of his shoulders and back as from the more intimate activities that preceded it. It had been quite a while since he had awakened much past first light, and the amount of sunshine in the room told Ian that dawn had come and go hours ago. He rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes. "What time is it?"

She set the mug and magazine down on her nightstand and shifted closer to him. "Nearly noon." She reached out to kiss him just as he jolted upright.

"Noon?" he grabbed for his watch on the table nearest him. "God, I don't think I've slept till noon since university." Also unable to remember the last time in the past seven years that he had been separated from his mobile for so long, he reached for his Blackberry, only to be stopped by Sally's reassuring voice and a soft hand on his arm.

"No, it's not a problem. Don't worry. I've called in and checked the office phone for messages," she said patiently, "and also checked your work emails and your mobile for voice mails and texts. There's some congratulations on the handover and something incomprehensible from Siobhan, but nothing pressing anywhere, so you can lie back and relax." She gently pushed his bare shoulders back down onto her bed and curled in beside him. "It is Saturday, you know."

"The day of the week hasn't mattered to me for a long time," he said, forcing himself to exhale. He wrapped an arm around Sally. "You know, you're off duty, too. You don't have to do that stuff here." He suddenly sat up on his elbow and feigned mild outrage. "And anyway, what if I had a secret life I didn't want you to know about? Snooping about like that in my messages, you'd have ruined everything."

"Yes, that's annoying, actually." She nodded in agreement. "But you've been far too busy to live your real life, much less a secret one. And besides, if you did have a secret life, I'd probably know about it anyway." She kissed him just below his ear.

"True enough." Ian sighed and lay back flat. "I guess I needed a good night's sleep anyway. It's been a while." He chuckled. "Of course, I didn't expect it to mean twelve hours. Six or seven would've been a welcome enough improvement."

"No. Well, you do need more sleep than that, but I'm glad you were comfortable last night," said Sally. "Do you feel better?"

He nodded. "Like a new man." With the weight of his failed marriage lifted, and the burden of years of Olympic preparations finally eased, he truly was a new man—one with the very obvious possibility of a new life quite literally lying before him. Ian turned fully onto his side, facing her with a mischievous gleam in his eye. "You know, I've only just realized something." His hand wandered to her thigh. "I've made love to a beautiful woman on Friday night, and had a Saturday morning lie in. That's what normal people get up to at the weekend, is it?"

"So I've heard," said Sally. "And sometimes even on weekdays."

"Seems very decadent," Ian stifled a yawn, "but I have to admit, I could get used to it."

"I'm counting on it."

He found her irresistible when she was confident, but he knew he still held all the aces. Ian pulled her in for another kiss and she melted beneath him, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. He moaned softly in her ear as their lips briefly parted. "I'm hungry."

"Oh, yes," she agreed and deepened their kiss.

"No," he smiled and looked at her. "I mean I'm actually starving. We missed dinner last night." He traced soft kisses along her neckline as he teased, "And if I remember properly, it was your idea."

"Basically." Sally reluctantly sat up and, with her back to him, modestly traded his shirt for her robe. "But I don't really recall you complaining too much." She reached to the bottom of the bed and tossed his trousers and shirt at him. "Come on, get dressed. I'll fix us some breakfast."

"If you don't mind, I'd actually like to have a shower first."

"Ah, yes. Sure. Not a problem. There are extra towels and things in the cupboard. I might even find you a toothbrush. Let me check."

She made a move toward the bathroom, but he grabbed for her hand to stop her from leaving.

"Uh, Sally?" He patted her vacated spot beside him.

The playfulness had left his tone, and Ian suddenly seemed unsure of himself as she sat expectantly beside him on the bed. She momentarily wondered if it was regret she heard in his voice. Suddenly sure he wanted to tell her not to get her hopes up for something serious, she resisted the urge to panic and talk over him and quickly excuse their liaison as nothing more than a failed experiment before he could voice his own easy letdown.

Instead, he held tightly to her hand and pulled her closer. "I want you to know," he said, "that is, I just want to say…Well, I really enjoyed last night. And not just the…though, you know, that was incredible…I mean, it's just that it's been a long time since I felt…Oh, sod it, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm glad we finally, you know, got together on this."

She smiled, partly in relief, and partly at his discomfort, the tables finally turned. He gave up on talking and again took her in his arms, and she closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of him above her. It was quite odd to be so close to him, talking about such things, and with such intimate physical contact. This was _Ian_. He was her boss, and for years the object of her secret desire. It was only hours ago that she wondered whether she'd ever have the courage to even ask him to dinner. Now, as the intensity of another kiss and the feel of his bare shoulders beneath her hands rekindled the memory of their activities in that very bed, she blushed slightly; but she knew he was right. Last night had been incredible, worth waiting seven years for. Every touch was thrilling, and she couldn't help but wonder if, after wanting Ian for so long, his kisses would ever seem routine. She hoped she'd have a lifetime of trying to find out. Looking into his eyes, she wanted to make love again, but suddenly remembered that he had wanted shower and a meal—and in her overwhelming desire to please him, his needs always trumped hers. Besides, she could let him go for a while; she knew now that there would be more nights to come. She gently extricated herself from his arms.

"Go on, " she said. "Have your shower while I fix something."

"We could go out for lunch," suggested Ian. "I'm afraid I owe you a nice meal, and you never did get to show off that little black dress of yours last night." He pointed to the garment left carelessly in a heap in their rush of passion the night before.

"Oh, no," said Sally. "That's not a problem." She scooped the dress from the floor and draped it over a chair. "Besides, I think it's a compliment to a woman's dress that it ends up on the floor beside her bed, don't you think?"

Freshened up and dressed in his trousers, and with his slightly rumpled shirt unbuttoned at the collar, he entered the kitchen to find her hurriedly setting out a feast of eggs, toasted bread, coffee, juice and fresh fruit. He slung his suit jacket over the back of a chair and carefully folded his necktie and tucked it into the inside pocket.

"Wow," he said as she filled his plate with eggs. "I can't remember the last hot breakfast I had. Is there no end to your talents?"

"Sit. You don't want them to get cold." She pushed him into a chair and watched as he dug in. Unable to resist temptation, with one smooth motion she reached down without a word and unbuttoned a second button on his shirt, giving him the slightly more casual look she liked best on him.

He looked up quizzically, but Sally simply nodded, patted his shoulder and said, "Yes."

Still puzzled, but placing himself in her hands, he gave a small shrug, nodded back at her and kept eating. Sally sat beside him, more pleased that he was enjoying his food than she was interested in her own plate. It pleased her greatly to know he appreciated her cooking for him. He actually always had; he had never let the gesture of any meal she had organized for him go by, from simple pieces of fruit to sandwiches to his favorite lemon drizzle cake. Having had some insight into his marriage, she figured Laura hadn't exactly been a domestic diva. Sally knew she had fulfilled more of Ian's needs since she had known him than his former wife had, and reveled in the fact that she might now be solely responsible for satisfying all of his needs. "How was the shower?"

"Uh, yeah," he shrugged and mumbled around a mouthful of toast. "Good, I guess."

She smiled, this time more at herself than at him. They ate in a comfortable silence for a minute before Ian spoke up. "So, what's on for today?" He sipped at his coffee. "You know, it's probably been about two years since I've had a weekend where I didn't have to work. I wouldn't know what to do first."

"Yes, well, I, um…" Not ready to share him with the world yet, she searched her mind, trying to come up with something that didn't require their leaving the flat. "Oh, how about we finalize…you know, that trip to Italy." She continued, but carefully left her own travel status unspoken. "Assuming… you… still want to go."

Ian frowned knowingly at her. When would she trust herself with him? "I do if you do." He raised an eyebrow at her and finished the last of his toast. "You're the Italy expert. I'll leave the itinerary to you."

"Well, I don't know," she teased, trying to quell the excitement of a holiday away with him. "You were quite specific about your plans." She ran her fingers through the still-damp hair above his ear, loving the fact that without a hairbrush, his short greying curls and waves were largely untamed. "Unless you'd like to amend them and add something for us to actually do together."

Ian tried to look indignant. "My plan had lots we could do together."

"Yes, well," said Sally, "your plan basically involved eating, sleeping, drinking and reading, I think."

"Well, we'd eat together, wouldn't we?" said Ian defensively, gesturing at the table. "We'd drink together, and I could always read aloud."

"Yes, fine. Not a problem." She smiled shyly and dropped her hand onto his knee. "And?"

He sighed as if in defeat. "Oh, all right." He leaned over and kissed her. "I suppose we could sleep together, too." He pointed his executive finger at her. After all, he was still her boss. "But only as long as it doesn't interfere with eating, drinking and reading."

Sally nodded firmly and did her best to look serious. "Yep. Right."


	3. Chapter 3

They spent Saturday exploring holiday options and growing comfortable with each other out of work—and out of bed. With their relationship not even twenty-four hours old, they were learning to parlay the easy comfort they had as an ODC team into a romantic partnership. Their first night together had pretty much taken care of itself, with both of them eager to explore this new facet of their relationship and relieve the tension and curiosity that had built over the years.

Of course, the transition into coupledom was easier on Ian, having had the benefit of both a recent long-term relationship and a decided lack of baggage about his role, but Sally, perhaps still a bit overly eager to please him, was growing more confident and relaxed with every interaction. Her breath still caught in her throat every time he touched her, and she found herself stealing looks at him just to prove he was still there, but she finally had what she always wanted. _Ian_. And she was determined to make it work for both of them.

Sally had offered to cook, but Ian insisted they give their dinner date another go. "I think I need a change of clothes," said Ian. "How about we stop by my place on the way to dinner?"

Showered and dressed in her best, Sally settled into the soft leather seat of his high-end Volvo. They drove in silence for a few minutes until Ian glanced over at a stoplight and noticed his companion's gaze fixed on him.

"What?" he asked. "Are you all right?"

Sally blushed and nodded. "Yes," she said quickly. "Not a problem. It's just that…well, I don't know…I actually feel a bit like Cinderella at the ball. You know, like suddenly the car will turn back to a pumpkin or something."

Ian laughed. "Does that make me Prince Charming?"

"Basically, yes," she smiled. "It does."

"I can't say I agree with your casting, but you can relax, Cinders. I'm not going to let you run away from me again," he took her hand and waggled his eyebrows suggestively, "especially at midnight."

A horn tooted behind him and they drove on, but Ian kept hold of her hand. Sally wrapped her other hand around his, just to be sure he didn't get away either.

They entered Ian's flat together. It was certainly larger than Sally's cozy apartment, but what it had in size it lacked in atmosphere. Sally knew it had been a furnished rental usually leased to visiting businessmen, and was not really intended to be a long-term home. The supplied furniture and accessories were definitely expensive and male, befitting someone of Ian's position and income. For him, it had been the easiest and closest option once he decided that since his separation from his wife would be permanent, he couldn't impose on his sister's generosity any longer and had to make a new start on his own. And Sally knew that his brother-in-law's constant harping about how Ian was basically responsible for all the pre-Olympic traffic, construction detours and chaos in the city, and how though the games themselves would basically be a cock-up in a tin hat, he was still expecting Ian could get him tickets. So after three months in Dulwich limbo, Ian landed here, and a temporary flat became his residence.

"Sorry about the mess," he said as they entered. It wasn't really messy at all, not when considering that only a bachelor inhabited it. A few suit jackets hung over chairs, and a half-empty take out container and beer bottle sat on the table beside the leather recliner in front of the television. Several unopened cardboard boxes sat in a far corner, no doubt containing the items cleared from Ian's house when he separated from his wife. There was one framed photograph on a shelf near the television depicting Ian standing among a group that Sally recognized included his sister and father. Other than that, there were so few personal possessions displayed in the place that it was clear Ian did little more than sleep here. It was more a hotel room than a home.

While he sorted through his mail, she helpfully tidied and started collecting his discarded clothes from around the room. She couldn't help but smile remembering those first few tentative gestures when she so desperately had wanted to care for him when he was wounded just a month or so ago, and how far they had come in only twenty-four hours.

An excited tingle ran up her spine when she entered his bedroom to hang his stray jackets and neckties in his closet. She recalled the only other time she had been in the room, while Ian had been recovering from the gunshot to his foot. Being injured on the job meant Ian was rushed to the hospital with only the clothes on his back—and they were quickly discarded in casualty treatment. His shoe had a bullet hole, his socks and trousers were bloodied and had been cut off, and he had also managed to get blood on his shirt sleeves and jacket.

Though more relieved and pleased than she'd admit to upon learning from Daniel that it looked like Ian's marriage was over for good, it had irked Sally that the self-absorbed PA hadn't thought to bring Ian something more dignified to wear rather than the standard hospital-issued gown. Daniel had said Ian had requested only his Blackberry charger and some files from the office, and that was all he had brought—other than the news he was abandoning him for Seb Coe. Daniel may have been fairly efficient, but working for Ian had simply been a job, a stepping stone; whereas Sally saw her role as more like Ian's operating system, functioning seamlessly in the background of his personal and professional lives, quickly honoring any and all requests and intuitively providing services he didn't even know he needed. And then, just weeks before the culmination of perhaps the largest undertaking London had ever seen, the man ultimately responsible for it all had been left languishing in a hospital bed, laid up and cut off from his team, and Sally knew that Ian would never focus on personal details when he was worrying about work.

Figuring he was likely left without clean clothes, Sally had stopped on the way to see him that first day and picked up pajamas, a robe, underclothes and some personal items in case he was kept in, and dress slacks and a shirt in case he was released. After he was kept longer due to the infection in his foot, she had also volunteered to go with his keys to take in his mail, and to supplement the things she had bought for him on the way to see him that first day. He had entrusted her to pick up a suit jacket and a pair of shoes for him to leave hospital in so that he could go straight back to work. But once in his flat, she hadn't been able to stop herself doing more.

She'd admired the blinds and curtains she had picked out for him a year before, remembering how much she had enjoyed sharing that with him—and how nice it was to recall how he trusted her judgment and discretion. Of course, that also put her in mind of the fact that she had soon after abandoned him herself, having allowed a miscommunication and unfounded jealousy lead her to make the most regrettable impulsive decision she could ever recall. Ian had wanted to talk about it when she arrived in the hospital to see him, but there was nothing to say. She'd steamrolled him into getting right to work, and they had basically picked up where they left off more than a year before—working pleasantly side-by-side and ignoring the elephant in the room. Roaming his home that day, and wanting to make up for leaving him, she had rinsed out the coffee cups left in the kitchen sink, and tossed out anything that looked particularly off-color or out of date in his fridge. Of course, that had basically left only a few bottles of imported beer on the near-empty shelves. Knowing he'd be on crutches for a few days upon his release, she had even slipped out to the corner shop to get him some milk, bread, eggs, fresh fruit and sandwich meats so he'd have easy healthy things to eat when he got home again. As always, he'd been appreciative and had told her she had once again gone above and beyond, but she could hardly have imagined back then that he was himself at that very time contemplating taking their relationship to another level.

Now here she was in his flat once more, just a few weeks later, only this time under very different circumstances. She caught sight of his unmade king sized bed and smiled at the memory of how much she had longed to share it with him the first time she saw it. And after spending last night at her place, doing the same here was basically inevitable, and thought of it consumed her.

Lost in thought, she hadn't heard Ian enter the room. He stole behind her, and embraced her gently from behind. She jumped slightly, embarrassed at being caught fantasizing about him, though he seemed none the wiser.

"You know, you really should make the bed in the morning," she chastised.

"Why?" he asked into her ear. "It will only get mussed again."

She turned to face him and put her arms around his neck. "Because someday you might be fortunate enough to have company in here and you'll want to impress her."

"I guess I'll just have to distract her with my charm and witty conversation."

"Yes," she said. "And if that fails?"

"I suppose I'll have to find another way."

He kissed her so that her knees nearly buckled. She sensed that now that he finally understood the effect he had on her, he was enjoying being a bit drunk with power. But Sally also possessed a quiet confidence, and was a quick learner, and even one night with Ian had confirmed that he was vulnerable to a few distractions himself.

Once again lying in bed as the outside light waned, their clothes scattered about the floor below them, Ian held Sally in his arms.

"I think we've missed another dinner," said Sally.

"Yes," agreed Ian, kissing her. Problems were solutions waiting to happen. "We should probably start having big lunches." He drew his lips across her neck and re-enacted their morning conversation by whispering into her ear. "Very big lunches. I'm hungry again."

"Not a problem. I'll go." Once again, she grabbed his discarded shirt and hopped out of bed and went in search of food for him. This time, however, she had a different answer for him upon her return. "Ian, even I can't get anything resembling food out of that kitchen of yours. All you seem to have is imported beer and Coco Pops." She held up a cereal box and two bottles.

"Staples for any swinging bachelor," he said defensively, grabbing the box and one of the beers. He dug into the cereal with one hand.

She climbed back beside him on the bed. "It's bad enough for a grown man to own chocolate cereal, but you don't even have milk for it."

"Milk only goes bad. Beer never lasts long enough to go bad." He opened one bottle and handed it to Sally, then opened his own. "Besides, I eat the cereal right out the box when the football is on…or when entertaining in my bachelor pad." He offered her the box.

"Yes," Sally grinned at him and reached inside. "Coco Pops and football? Not quite champagne and caviar, though, is it?" She tapped her bottle to his in a salute and snuggled in close.

"Don't scoff," he chastised. "I have got a half-dressed woman in my bed. The proof, as they say, is in the pudding."


End file.
